


They Do It With Mirrors

by Ellynne



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Hammer House of Horror, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26657497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellynne/pseuds/Ellynne
Summary: Avon's been captured by cultists. This isn't a problem till Blake shows up to rescue him.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	They Do It With Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the Hammer House of Horror episode "Guardian of the Abyss," which has Paul Darrow in it. I wondered what would happen if Avon and Blake had found themselves in that story, and this happened. Basically, Avon and Blake in the finale of that episode.

Avon was lying back on the narrow bed, contemplating the situation and what he meant to do about it, when the door slammed open and Blake charged in.

Avon groaned. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to rescue you,” Blake said (far too cheerfully, in Avon’s opinion). “Come on, we’re getting out of here.”

“I don’t need—” Avon started and stopped. In one hand, Blake had a gun. In the other— “What are you doing with _that?_ ”

“This? It’s that relic mirror, isn’t it? The one these lunatics have been trying to get a hold of. I thought we should steal it back from them.”

“Blake, have you looked around the cultists’ headquarters? Have you noticed all the red and black decorations? The inverted crosses? Don’t you know what that means?”

“Religious distress signal?”

“Blake, these are demon worshippers. Do you know what demons are?”

“Funny aliens with horns, arent’ they? Thin skin, too, judging by how red they are.”

“And I’m sure you know all about thin skin. They’re actually—”

“Avon, I’m sure you want to stand around and lecture me but, really, we need to get out of here.”

“No, _you_ need to get out of here. And put down that mirror. It’s not safe for you to be here. Why do you think I went with them when they came? I knew, if we hung around, you’d do something suicidally stupid like this.”

Blake looked at him sympathetically. “It’s obvious they have you under some kind of mental control, Avon. That’s why you clubbed Vila over the head. But, we’ll get that fixed up once we have you out of here.”

“I clubbed him over the head because he’s Vila, and it was easier than explaining everything. Obviously, I should have done the same to you. Just get out, before—Don’t touch that!” Avon said as Blake, already bored with listening to someone who wasn’t Blake, began to fiddle with the bell cord. But, it was already too late.

“Oops,” said Blake as a deep, ominous bell rang. “What was that?”

“The signal to let them know you’re here.”

“What? Why would they do that? How did they know I was coming? And why would anyone expect me to pull the cord when I got here?”

“Because you’re a complete idiot,” Avon said, who realized he should have known this was going to happen. But, Blake had always been the kind of natural stupidity no amount of planning could ever hope to match. “They want you because they’re a demon worshipping cult and they think, if they sacrifice someone born on an equinox, they can use the mirror to summon one into this world.”

“Equinox? How do they know I was born on an equinox? What’s an equinox, anyway?”

“They know because you insisted on filling out those forms honestly when they sent them to you.”

“I used a fake name!”

“And Blake Oj was such a clever alias. I’m sure it through them completely off the scent. But, it was the birthdate I told you to lie about.”

“I don’t see why—”

Just then, a group of cultists in black robes came barging in. “Is this him?” the leader asked.

“No, no,” Avon said. “Just a student of comparative theology stopping by. He had some questions for his term paper.”

The cult leader stepped forward and eyed Blake up and down. “And when was the student of comparative theology born?”

“Year of the Obnoxious Rat,” Avon said. “Not even the same calendar. No help there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Avon,” Blake said. “I was born at midnight, right between June 20th and June 21st.”

“Blake, what did I just tell you about using a fake birthdate?”

“How can I expect people to trust me if I lie to them?” Blake asked.

“A question I’ve asked every time you say ‘This mission will be a piece of cake.’ Why start now?”

The cult leader cleared his throat. “And did he come here of his free will?”

“Oh, Blake doesn’t believe in free will.”

“What do you mean, Avon? Of course, I do. That’s what I stand for, free will and fighting evil tyranny.”

“Excuse me, Blake, but, having worked with you, the only time you support free will is when people use it to do exactly what you tell them.”

The cult leader turned to Blake. “Just answer yes or no. Did you come here eagerly to save your friend?”

Avon rolled his eyes. “I’m NOT his friend!”

“Of course!” Blake said, looking like he suspected someone of having a camera and trying to look noble and determined. “You think I would leave him here for you to do . . . uh . . . whatever evil thing it is you’re planning to do. What _are_ you doing, anyway?”

“Human sacrifice,” the cult leader said.

“Sorry, I’m not familiar with that term except as a metaphor for what evil dictatorships do to their people.”

“He means he’s going to put you on an alter and kill you, Blake,” Avon said.

“Did the Federation put them up to it?”

“No, they came up with the idea themselves.” Avon turned back to the cult leader. “You can’t use him. He’s supposed to come carrying the magic mirror and he didn’t.”

“Oh? What’s that he’s got in his hand, then?”

“My shaving mirror. I had it under the bed.”

“It _looks_ like the mirror.”

“I bought it as a souvenir last time I was at Demon World. They sell them just outside of the It’s a Small End of the World ride.”

The cult leader considered that for a moment. “Check under the bed,” he told a minion.

The minion checked. “What am I looking for?”

“Any shaving cream? Or a razor of some kind?”

“Sorry, no. I can nip down to the store and get some if you want.”

“Not necessary,” the cult leader looked at Avon. “Nice try, but that’s the real mirror. Right, everyone. Let’s sharpen some knives and get moving. Innocent victims don’t kill themselves, you know.”

“Since when?” Avon muttered as he was herded out with the rest.

A little later, as the cult leader was tying Blake to the altar, he told him, “Thanks awfully. We really do appreciate this. It’s so hard to find a good sacrifice these days.”

“Weren’t you planning on sacrificing Avon if I didn’t show up?”

“We thought we’d give it a go, but some of us thought he was lying about his birthday.”

“I was,” Avon said. “And I never admitted to an equinox. Ever.”

“True,” the cult leader said. “But, the last time we tried to summon a demon—not bring it into this realm, you understand, just let it possess someone’s brain long enough to get a little feedback—the medium started yelling about, ‘Get that one guy from the Liberator!’”

Blake frowned. “How did you know that meant Avon?”

“She also yelled, ‘The hot one! Get the hot one!’”

“Again, why Avon?”

“She called him the smart one, too.”

“I don’t see it.”

“Never mind. Some of us thought that meant we should get him. The others thought it meant, if we got him, we’d get someone else to use as a sacrifice. And, here we are. All right, guys, hand me the knife.”

“Just a moment,” Avon said. “As you can see, Blake is not the best coworker to fight a revolution with. And the medium did mention I had a part to play in this. Would you mind handing me the knife? It would help me work out my frustrations.”

“Oh, certainly,” the cult leader said, handing the blade over and stepping aside. “Always glad to help a fellow—Urk!”

He was not the last to say “Urk.” Several urks later, when Avon was the last one left standing, he cut Blake free from the altar. 

“Thanks, Avon,” Blake beamed. “I knew you’d come through for me.”

Avon grumbled what was probably a series of very bad words under his breath. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Once they were back on _Liberator,_ Blake regaled everyone with an inaccurate account of how he had brilliantly saved the day.

“I’m still not sure what the mirror had to do with any of this,” Vila, who had mostly recovered from his head injuries, said.

Blake beamed, loving the chance to explain some more. “They believed it had magic powers and that they could use it to contact demons.”

“And they needed to sacrifice someone to make it work?”

“The mirror was supposed to do that on its own. They thought they could summon a demon and put it in the body of the person they sacrificed.”

“So, why bring it back with you? Shouldn’t you have left it there?”

“Oh, please,” Avon said. “Do you think I’m going to leave it lying around for the next troop of idiots who come by? I’ll keep it with our idiots, thanks.”

“Oh,” Vila said. “I thought you might want to use it to call home.”

“You do know you’re the only one who things you’re funny, don’t you, Vila?”

“Funnier than when you clubbed me over the head.”

“My apologies. Next time, I shall try harder. Now, I’m going to lock this thing away before any other lunatics show up looking for it.”

Avon got the mirror back to his quarters and put it down on his desk. A few moments later, the room began to grow cold. The lights flickered, and a sinister whisper could be heard.

“Avon. . . .” it breathed. “Avon. . . .”

Avon glared at the mirror. “Cultists? You sent lunatic cultists after me?”

“Can you think of a better way for me to get you the mirror?”

“I’m sorry. Is there a reason I needed the mirror?”

“Reason? _Reason!?_ Excuse me, when was the last time you called home?”

“I’ve been busy, but—”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard it all. ‘I can’t come to the phone, now. We’re being shot at.’ ‘Sorry, can’t talk. There’s an alien invasion.’ ‘Oh, was last week your birthday? Sorry, my friends were all dying of radiation poisoning.’ No, more excuses! You are going to sit down and talk to me like a good son or, next time, it will be something a lot worse than cultists I send after you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mumsy.” Most people (the ones who weren’t crazy cultists) believed communication with demons was for suicidal idiots.

“And don’t you dare forget Mother’s Day!” the evil voice hissed.

Avon let out a deep sigh. Most people were wrong. Communication with demons was worse, so much worse.


End file.
